


Be Great

by a_windsor



Series: Thing!verse [40]
Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 15:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_windsor/pseuds/a_windsor
Summary: "She's good at it. She's great at it, and she always has been." November 2033





	Be Great

_Be Great_ – **November 2033 to April 2034**

 

"Lena! Baby Grey! What do you think you're doing?" Miranda Bailey demands, stopping in her tracks at the sight of the two teenagers in states of half-dress in her parking lot.

"We have practice, Aunt Miranda," seventeen-year-old Lena defends, pulling a warm layer of insulating long sleeves over her sports bra.

"We were just dropping off the little ones," Grey adds, yanking his sweatpants on.

"And you couldn't change inside?"

"No time," Lena shrugs, pulling another t-shirt over her head. She ducks her head into the open driver's side. "Geez, Grey, your shoulder pads reek. Can't you leave them at school?"

"Sorry if it stinks when you're fogging up your windows with Mia, but your cleats and shin guards are no bed of roses, Baby Blondie."

Lena smirks, and Bailey looks to her feet.

"I'm guessing this is yours, then, Miss Lena?" she asks, as she gives the ball at her feet a gentle kick.

Lena catches the ball with the inside of her foot, jockeys it around on the ground a little bit, and then kicks it into the air, where Grey catches it and tosses it into the backseat.

"Nobody's watching, you big showboat."

"No rainbow around the world for Chief Bailey?" Lena asks cheekily, looking far too much like her mother for Bailey’s comfort. In fact, looking far too much like her _mothers_ ; it’s pretty damn freaky, Robbins’s dimples, Torres’s mannerisms.

"You're spreading rainbows around the world just fine without showing off," Grey teases. "What are you doing Friday afternoon, Chief? Can you make it to the girls' game? The football team has a bye, so we're all going to cheer them on in soccer. They're on their way to state again."

"I'm working, like the rest of normal adults."

"Yeah, our parents, too," Lena frowns.

"Good luck, though," Bailey says as consolation. "Now get your clothes on and get out of my parking lot."

Grey and Lena laugh and salute, the Sloan boy running around to the passenger side door.

“Have a nice evening, Chief!” he calls after her as he hops into the car. He’s got that disarming smile of his father’s, along with those twinkling light eyes, but he’s also got enough of his mama in him to keep it sweet rather than smarmy. So far.

“You, too. Be safe!”

 

***

 

Callie comes home just in time to smell dinner almost burning. She fights back a groan.

“Nope, nope, everything’s okay!” Lena assures her as soon as she walks in the door, adorably frazzled and Arizona-like.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy making out there’d be more stirring and less frying,” fourteen-year-old Caroline remarks. Lena sticks out her tongue in retort.

“Hi, Mia,” Callie sighs, seeing the girl busying herself chopping vegetables at Lena’s side.

“Hi, Dr. Torres,” Lena’s girlfriend says sweetly.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

Lena turns to Mia hopefully, but she declines with a shake of her head.

“I should get home. I promised my mom,” she says, dropping the veggies into the sizzling pan and moving to wash her hands.

“Caroline, check the rice. I’ll walk you out, Mia mia,” Lena says, practically throwing her spatula at her little sister.

“Oh, that’s exactly what you need. More making out,” Cari snarks.

Callie heads to the bathroom as the girls continue to bicker. One foot in, she slips and catches herself on the doorframe. She glances at the toilet seat and growls.

“Dammit.”

Down the hall in the playroom she can hear music, so she sticks her head out of the powder room door and yells:

“Mateo! I don’t care how busy you are, hombrecito, you have _got_ to aim for the toilet!”

The music cuts out and Teo’s head emerges from the playroom, grinning sheepishly.

“Hi, Mami. Sorry,” the eleven-year-old says.

“Just don’t dance _while_ you’re peeing, okay?”

Teo gives a good salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Thanks, dude.”

He gives her a wink and disappears back into the playroom.

“Dinner in five, Teo!”

“Got it, Ma!”

Callie retreats to the master bathroom and emerges four minutes later, face washed and feeling less like strangling her three younger children.

“Hi, Mami,” Lena greets her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, no longer distracted by sucking face with her girlfriend.

“Hey, Lena-nena. Dinner looks good.”

“It’s a miracle,” Caroline speaks up from putting drinks on the table.

“Did Mia get off okay?” Callie ignores the color commentary and asks her elder daughter.

Lena nods.

“Teo, ven a la cena,” [Come to dinner.] Cari calls down to her brother. “Are we waiting for Momma?”

“No, sorry, m’ijos. Momma got held up with a surgery, so it’s just us.”

“More food for me,” Teo sings, throwing himself into his chair.

“Mami, tell Lena I don’t have to go to her game,” Caroline requests as they all join hands.

“I _wanna_ go,” Teo says, so unhelpfully.

“You’re both going. Susie’ll be there: no whining. Now, Teo? Please say grace.”

***

 

“Female soccer player, seventeen. Collided with the goalkeeper in a high school game. Left knee is swollen, no sign of head trauma.”

“Scored the goal, though,” the girl on the stretcher quips. “Won the game.”

Her voice is tight with pain, but her smile remains in place. A dimpled smile that ortho surgical fellow Malcom Rushdie immediately recognizes.

“Lena!” he exclaims. The resident on his service freezes, looking to the patient.

“Shit.”

“Aw, thanks, Gibbons,” the patient says dryly.

“Page Robbins and Torres,” Rushdie instructs Lara Gibbons. “Now.”

“You know her?” the paramedic questions.

“Her parents are surgical attendings here,” Rushdie informs her. “One’s head of ortho.”

“Convenient, right?” Lena continues to grin as they wheel her through the ER. “Hey, Rush, can you check on Caroline and Teo? Coach Franks was following with them and the Sloans.”

Malcom nods for a nurse to do just that while they settle Lena into one of the curtained areas. He pulls back the blanket on Lena’s leg, and his heart sinks at the sight of the mangled knee. He prays he’s not seeing the end of a full ride at Stanford staring him in the face. He meets Lena’s eyes and knows that despite the smiles and the banter, she knows exactly how serious this is.

“It’s just a sprain, right, Rush?” she asks for the lie hopefully, using his boss’s nickname for him.

“We’ve gotta get an x-ray and MRI first, Lena. Then we’ll know more.”

He chooses to examine her for less obvious injuries first before subjecting her to the pain of the exam of her primary injury.

“Did you hit your head when you fell?” he asks, fingers probing her neck gently as he searches her bright blue eyes.

“Not hard. You don’t need to get neuro.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna fly with your moms.” He turns to one of the nurses. “Page neuro and get me Shepherd or Grey. No one else.”

“Rush...” Lena starts with a grimace.

“No complaining. Did you try to catch yourself? Do your arms hurt?”

“No. Nothing else hurts. No time to catch myself.”

Rushdie drops his hands gently to her left knee, poking, prodding, and guiding.

“How’s the pain?”

She cries out at the contact, which answers his question.

“Rush,” she says, breathless, less jokey and confident, more scared little girl. “I felt the pop. I _heard_ the pop. This isn’t just a sprain.”

“Like I said,” Rushdie smiles warmly at his mentor’s daughter. “We don’t know anything yet, and we won’t until we get a better look.”

“It’s my ACL.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Teenage soccer player, Rush. If I weren’t Mami’s daughter, you’d’ve already made the primary diagnosis.”

“Let’s just get you some morphine and wait for...”

“Lena!”

“Mami, cálmate. Estoy okay. No te preocupes, I’m fine,” Lena quickly puts her confident demeanor back on. [Mami, calm down. I’m okay. Don’t worry, I’m fine.]

“Ambulance, Lena!” Callie cries, still in panic mode from Gibbons’s page.

“It’s just protocol. They don’t wanna get sued,” Lena assures her.

“Lena...”

“Mami...”

“Your momma is gonna die.”

“She scored the game winning goal,” Rushdie deflects, smiling reassuringly at the teen.

“It was awesome.”

Callie quickly embraces her brave daughter, noticing the wince of pain when the knee is jostled. She takes in the damage, and her stomach drops. She tries her best to school her features. One look at Lena’s wide, wet eyes tells her she’s failed.

“Mami, it’s rota, no? My ACL.” [It’s broken, right?]

“Gotta run the tests, Lena. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

She’s pretty sure they’re just delaying the inevitable.

“I ordered x-rays and an MRI, Dr. Torres,” Rushdie informs. “Anything else I should order?”

“No, that’s good. I’ll take her up when they’re ready. I have a different job for you. I need you to go intercept and prepare her mother.”

“Ma’am?”

“You know those moms who freak out when their kids get the littlest scrape on their elbows? Dr. Robbins, though she tries valiantly to fight it, is one of those.”

“She _is_ totally gonna freak,” Lena groans. Her hand has found her madre’s, holding tight as she tries to keep being brave.

“She’ll be fine. _You’ll_ be fine,” Callie reassures, moving a stray blonde curl out of Lena’s eyes. “¿Dónde están tus hermanos?” [Where are your siblings?]

“Coach brought them in. Grey and Susie should be with them. Teo was a little freaked out by the ambulance.”

“Yeah, well, ambulances are scary.”

“Holy crap, my baby!”

Callie can’t help but smile at Arizona’s exclamation. The curtain leaps aside, and Lena gets a bear hug before she can even process it.

“Momma, gotta breathe,” Lena croaks, squeezing tightly herself.

“Right, right. Sorry, I just... Lena!”

“She’s okay. We’re gonna take her up to radiology soon. Did you see Cari and Teo?”

“They’re at the nurses station with the Sloans. Mark’s coming to get them; he just finished up a surgery. I...” Arizona trails off, obviously still shaken at the sight of their daughter in an ER bed. “Oh, Lena. What happened?”

“I had a breakaway. The keep’ came out to challenge. I planted with my left and took the shot, but the goalie had already started her tackle and couldn’t pull up. We got tangled up, and my left leg went one way while the rest of me went the other. I think I broke her nose when I fell on her.”

The story does little to calm her mothers, because they’ve both seen enough sports injuries to know what happens next.

“Did Rush get some morphine in you?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay. I’ll go get that for you,” Callie says gently. “You stay here and keep your momma from hyperventilating.”

She squeezes Arizona’s hand and kisses her cheek on her way out.

“Holy crap, my baby,” Arizona repeats, taking Lena’s hand.

“Momma, just breathe...”

 

***

 

“Shit.”

“No. No, no, no. Don’t say that. Calliope, don’t _say_ that. It’s just a...”

Callie zooms the MRI image in on Lena’s knee, grateful for the soundproofing.

“Oh my god. It’s...” Arizona can’t look at it any longer without feeling sick.

“A mess. As it is, it won’t support her weight.”

“That’s one of the worst ACL tears I’ve seen,” Rush adds with a little awe, not thinking.

“Not helping, Rush.”

“Right. Sorry, Dr. Torres.”

“You can fix it, right?” Arizona says hopefully, looking to her wife. “’Cause you’re a goddess. A super star with a scalpel.”

Callie looks between the scans and Arizona, then through the glass to where their daughter lies anxiously. She fights down the dread, always unable to deny Arizona anything, and latches onto her wife’s words.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can fix it.”

“So she’ll walk again?”

“Of course,” Callie dismisses.

“So she’ll play again?”

Callie hesitates. “I can fix it.”

 

***

 

“Yeah, no. Not happening. Absolutely not. Rushdie can do the surgery,” Chief Bailey says resolutely.

“No offense, Rush, but no,” Callie says, arms crossed over her chest.

“Dr. Rushdie is a great surgeon. _Your_ great surgeon. I’m not having my attendings operating on their own child. And yes, Robbins, that means you’re not scrubbing in either.”

“She’s technically peds!” Arizona whines, already capitulating.

“Bailey,” Callie demands.

She gets a Nazi eyebrow of doom.

“ _Chief_ Bailey. Rush is the second best ortho surgeon I know, but that’s our baby girl and she’s not getting second best anything.” Callie pulls up the x-rays and MRI on Bailey’s office screen. Arizona has to look away again, and Callie instinctively grabs her hand even as her attention is elsewhere. “Look at that knee, Bailey. Imagine Lena not with a soccer ball. Ever again.”

“Torres, that ACL is torn to shreds. Dr. Rushdie, what’s the chance Miss Lena will ever play competitively again? Even if our ortho goddess here performs the surgery.”

“Dr. Bailey, I’d really rather not...”

“Rushdie.”

“Slim, Chief. Very, very slim. She won’t play at Stanford; it’ll take a year to get her back to full function in her knee, and even then one wrong twist could undo everything.”

“You don’t know that,” Callie objects.

Arizona puts a calming hand on Callie’s shoulder.

“Calliope...”

“No, if she has a half a chance, we have to...”

“Lena doesn’t need you to be her surgeon in this, Callie. She doesn’t need to be able to _resent_ you for not fixing her knee. She needs you to be _her mom_. She needs you to hold her hand when it hurts like hell and help her see that there is more to life than kicking that damn soccer ball.” Bailey’s tone softens. “She’s got enough of both of you in her that she is going to be a _terrible_ patient. So you need to be moms, not doctors.”

“Rush’ll do the surgery,” Callie concedes, deflating.

“And neither of you will be in the gallery, making him nervous. You’ll wait, like parents, and be with Teo and Caroline, who’re worried sick.”

“Okay, Chief,” Callie sighs.

 

***

 

Lena’s hospital room is filled, of course, with the usual crowd of kids. Teo and Nicky Altman-Tate play cards in the corner. Susie Sloan and Caroline are bickering over what channel to watch. Grey Sloan tries valiantly to distract Lena, but she’s uncharacteristically distant.

“Do you want me to tell her?” Arizona offers, not sounding very enthusiastic about the idea.

“No. No. Thanks, babe, but I should tell her,” Callie concedes, taking Arizona’s hand, eyes trained on Lena.

If Grey, her best friend since infancy, can’t get a smile out of her, she must already suspect the truth.

“Well, I’m gonna go see her, and then we’ll have to arrange some slumber parties so Cari and Teo don’t have to sleep here. Are you ready?”

“I, uh. I need a minute. Arizona, her career is over. I mean, I know it’s just high school, and we don’t know that for sure, but she loves it so much, and her face when Stanford offered her that scholarship...”

“I know. I don’t know how she’s going to take it. Besides not well. And seeing her in pain, all hooked up to those IVs...” Arizona shudders, pulling herself together.

“She’s tough. I’m pretty sure I’d be in the fetal position right now. I mean, Rush was right. That’s one of the worst. And tendons, they’re repairable, but they never go quite back where there were. She could be that old lady that predicts the weather with her joints.”

“Well, that’ll come in handy,” Arizona tries to smile. Her thumb brushes the back of Callie’s hand. “I’ll see you in there.”

 

***

 

“How do I do this?”

“How long have you been standing out here?” Mark asks.

“How do I tell her that she’ll never play again? Do I tell her that it’s not the end of the world? Because it kinda is. The end of her world, at least. Of how she saw her future. And how will she not blame me? I’m her Mami; I’m supposed to make it better.”

“Look, Cal, I don’t have the answers here.”

“If you lost your hands, how would you want to find out?” Callie demands.

“Callie...” Mark sighs, leaning his back against the glass.

“’Cause that’s what it’s like for her. Soccer is her surgery. She’s good at it. She’s _great_ at it, and she always has been. And it’s her life, outside of school and, well, Mia. She’s got her little posse of soccer girls, and next year she was supposed to play for Stanford. It was supposed to be her life.”

“I know all that. But now she gets a new life. Now she can go to college and be whatever she wants to be. She can be a drama geek or a sorority girl - ”

“Oh no. We are not unleashing that Robbins charm on a sorority house. It would be a blood bath.”

Mark laughs.

“It _is_ like a super power. Think of the catfights!”

“Stop it! That’s my kid.”

“She wouldn’t be doing the fighting. She’s be fought over. Much more dignified. Was Blondie in a sorority?”

“We are _so_ off topic.”

Callie looks back into the hospital room, where Arizona keeps their three kids and their friends occupied telling her all of Lena’s highlights from the game.

“I miss Asa. He’d know how to handle her.”

“She doesn’t need handling. You just, have to be honest with her. She’s having surgery in the morning, and you need to prepare her. This might be awful right now, but it’s not life-threatening and she will walk and run and kick a ball again. Maybe not on the level she wants to, but maybe she will. We don’t know anything yet..”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Want me to take Care-bear and Mr. T home?”

“Teo’s staying with Nick, but can Caroline spend the night?”

“Of course, Cal.”

 

***

 

“So I’m out for the rest of the season?”

“Yes.”

“No playoffs?”

“No.”

“No Stanford?” her voice cracks.

“Probably not for soccer, no. Coach Franks is talking to them.”

“Okay.”

“Lena...”

“¿Y qué? What else am I supposed to say?” Lena sighs, defeated. “My leg hurts. Can you ask Marina to up my dose so I can sleep?”

“Lena, please.”

“Do you want me to yell? To scream? To,-” her voice hitches, her breath fast, her eyes wet, “cry? Cause I can. I will. But I don’t think it’ll make it stop hurting, and I know it won’t make me play again.”

“Okay, pero... Quizás llorar te ayudaría respirar.” [Maybe crying would help you breathe.]

“¿Respirar? Quizás. But not play.” [Breathe? Maybe...]

“Lena...”

“Go away.”

Callie steps back, stung. Lena is _her_ baby girl, her bright and sunshine-y Lena-nena, her mini-Arizona, who skipped the “oh my god I hate you” phase of teenage girldom (at least with her madre) and would still cuddle close to her on movie night. She’s never spoken to her with such anger.

“M’ija-”

“Go. Away.” Lena can’t turn over with her leg immobilized like it is, but she turns her face away from the door. “I’m tired.”

“Okay. I’ll send Marina in. I’ll go find your mom and then we’ll come check on you.”

Callie backs out of the room, more worried than ever about her daughter. Maybe the rest will do her good.

 

***

 

“Dr. Robbins?”

Arizona turns to see sweet little Mia Randolph standing awkwardly in the hallway, looking so very lost. Her Lena really does know how to pick them: Mia is as kind as they come, and with her pretty green eyes and her porcelain skin, her petite frame and her tousled brown hair, only a crazy person could deny her beauty. Most people are shocked at the longevity of their puppy love (at least six months by now), especially given Lena’s previous reputation, but Callie points to Asa and Katie and says all Robbins are born monogamists.

“Mia, sweetie, what are you doing here?”

“Erin told me,” Mia says, hugging herself. “Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“She’s sleeping right now,” Arizona starts, watching the girl deflate, tears overcoming her soft features. Arizona pulls Mia into her arms.

“Hey, it’s okay. They’re gonna fix her up in the morning,” Arizona soothes, even though she wants to cry just as hard at the thought of her angry, hurting baby girl sitting in that hospital bed.

“Is she okay?” Mia asks again, hiccuping. “Is she gonna play again?”

“Her knee is pretty bad, but it’ll be okay. As for playing? I don’t know.”

Mia pulls back. “What about Stanford?”

“I don’t know,” Arizona admits, getting a little teary herself.

“Oh god. I have to see her. Please? I know she’s sleeping, but can’t I just peek in?”

“Mia..."

"Please."

“Okay,” Arizona acquiesces. “Just a peek.”

She leads the girl up to Lena’s private room on the peds floor (another surgeon’s daughter privilege). The blinds are open, allowing them full view of the darkened room.

Knee immobilized but heavily drugged, Lena sleeps fitfully on the bed. Callie, who sneaked back in after Lena succumbed to slumber, sits in the chair at her side, hand grasping their daughter’s.

Mia’s eyes zero in on the knee and its trappings, and then she quickly looks away.

“She needs surgery?”

“Yes. Her ACL is torn, but they can fix it. She’ll be on crutches for a couple weeks, and she’ll need physical therapy, but they can fix her.”

Mia nods, biting her lip and staring at Lena’s face.

“It’s late, sweetie. You should go home and get some rest.”

Mia nods again, absently.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“I drove,” the girl answers.

“And can you drive home? You can come back tomorrow after the surgery. I’m sure she’d love to see you then.”

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry, Dr. Robbins, yes, I can drive home.”

“It’s okay; someone can give you a ride if you don’t think you’re up to it.”

“No, I am. Just, can I stay a little longer?”

“Of course.”

 

***

 

“That was Mia?” Callie asks in a whisper.

“She’s coming back tomorrow. I talked to her mom on the phone, and Stephanie said she’d call first before they came over,” Arizona nods, slumping into the other chair and letting her head fall against Callie’s shoulder. She releases a shuddering sigh, and Callie reaches an arm around her shoulder. That’s when she loses it.

“Shhh. It’s okay. She’s okay,” Callie soothes.

“When they said ‘ambulance’ I was so scared, Calliope,” she sobs.

“I know. I know.” Callie kisses her temple, feeling her own tears start.

“And this is- This is better, but it’s--”

“Devastating,” Callie supplies.

Arizona buries her face deeper into Callie’s scrubs, quickly soaking them through.

“Asa’s collarbone. Caroline’s tonsils. Teo’s appendix. Every time Mark’s stitched up Lena’s head. Each time it kills me to see them in these beds.”

“I know, baby.”

“This is the most serious, though. Do you think Rush will do a good job?”

“He’ll do it just like I would.”

“No one can do it like you.”

“He’s damn close. What did her coach say when you talked to her?”

“Not much. She seemed pretty shaken. Probably because she lost her star midfielder,” Arizona adds bitterly.

“Stop. Franks cares about Lena more than that. Everyone’s just freaked out.”

Arizona shakes her head. “We should’ve been there. Why are we never there anymore? One of us used to always be there.”

“We’re working, and she can drive herself. She’s had thousands of games: we can’t be at every one.”

“We should’ve been at this one.”

 

***

 

“Good morning, Miss Lena,” Nurse Jane Francis greets her young charge.

“Morning,” Lena manages back, and Jane tries not to let her smile falter.

Seeing Lena Robbins-Torres like this is extremely disconcerting. The girl is a regular hospital visitor (and summer employee) who has a well-known, incorrigible habit of flirting _shamelessly_ with all of the nurses, a habit a mortified Dr. Robbins constantly admonishes and a delighted Dr. Torres constantly encourages. That she’s barely looked at her, let alone complimented her, is not a great sign.

“Ready for your big day?”

“Sure. Ma’am.”

“How did you sleep?”

Lena shrugs.

“And Marina mentioned that she let you have your necklace back last night, so I’ll have to grab that for safe-keeping,” Jane keeps on talking.

Lena leans forwards, and Jane reaches to undo the clasp on the chain, pulling it and the class ring is holds away. She studies the ring and its engravings.

“I didn’t know you sang in the choir.”

Lena shakes her head negatively.

“It’s not mine. It’s Mia’s.”

The girl reaches for the ring, taking it tenderly between her fingers and looking it over.

“Your girlfriend?”

Lena nods. “She has mine.”

“That’s sweet,” Jane says, and Lena reluctantly hands the ring back over.

“Do you know where my moms are?”

“Talking to Dr. Rushdie, I think. They’ll be right here. Are you ready for your bath?”

Lena grimaces:

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

***

 

Teddy Altman walks into her goddaughter’s room and finds it relatively tense, Lena sitting listlessly on the bed, her mothers nervous and anxious.

“Hey there, Lena-baby. You ready to go?”

“Aunt Teddy,” Lena manages the barest of smiles for her godmother.

“You’re going to be great. I know it. _And_ I’m going to see it.”

“What do you mean?” Lena asks, letting Teddy hold her hand while the cardio surgeon turns her attention to Callie and Arizona.

“Bailey is letting me be in the OR for the whole procedure. I’ll walk her in and be with her all the way to post-op.”

“Really?” Lena asks.

“Yep,” Teddy grins, brushing a stray curl from Lena’s face. “I’ll be there the whole time. I promise.”

“Oh, Teddy, thank you. That makes me feel so much better,” Arizona gushes, hugging her.

“I already talked to Rushdie,” Teddy assures Callie. “He okayed it, too.” She turns her attention back to Lena. “I’m going to go scrub in, okay? They’re just about to come get you.” She drops a kiss to the girl’s forehead. “You’ll be great, Lena-baby. Love you.”

 

***

 

Even though she’s barely said three words to her since the night before, Lena holds fast to Callie’s hand as she is rolled towards the OR. She’s already a little out of sorts from the first round of meds, and she looks so tiny and vulnerable that Callie nearly cries at the sight of her.

When they get to the OR doors where Rushdie and Teddy are waiting, Arizona moves to kiss her goodbye, and Callie follows suit. As she pulls away, Lena holds tight, stopping her in her tracks.

Callie leans close again.

“Mami, I’m scared.”

“Oh, Lena,” Callie breathes, pressing her forehead to hers. “Oh, mi amor. You’re going to be fine. No matter what, you’re going to come out of there with your knee fixed. You’ll walk, and it might hurt for a bit, but it will get _better_ , I swear. You’ll go to sleep, and Momma and I will be _right there_ waiting for you.”

“Won’t it hurt?” Lena asks, her voice already sounding so far away. Arizona squeezes Callie’s arm.

“Oh, Lena. Not any more than it does now, and eventually not at all. Rush is _great_ , and we’ll get you in PT, and te prometo, m’ija, you will get better. _Te prometo_.” [I promise you.]

“Yeah?”

“No te mentiría, amor. Ya sabes.” [I wouldn’t lie to you, love. You know that.]

“Sí, Mami,” Lena nods, lip quivering.

Callie brushes her thumb over that lip.

“Ay, cuánto te quiero,” Callie swears. [Oh, I love you so much.]

“We love you, baby girl. You’ll be _great_ ,” Arizona reiterates.

“Okay, okay,” Lena breathes.

“See you on the other side,” Arizona says as chipperly as possible as Callie and Lena’s hands disconnect. She grabs Callie’s despondently vacant hand immediately and squeezes. “She’ll be great.”

***

 

“Teo made you a playlist,” Callie says gently to her protégé, extending a thumb drive. Rushdie motions for a scrub nurse to take it. “For the OR.”

Rushdie swallows the nervous lump in his throat. “That’s quite the honor.”

“He’s worried about her. Wants good vibes.”

Teo Robbins-Torres’s playlists are legendary at Seattle Grace-Mercy West. Both of his mothers routinely operate to them, and even Chief Bailey has been known to have one playing during her surgeries. Being granted one is an honor that few attendings have received and most vie for: they’re said to be the perfect background to a procedure.

“I can do this, Dr. Torres.”

“I know you can. Just don’t mess it up. Don’t forget to--”

“He has it, Calliope. Don’t freak him out,” Arizona interrupts, pulling her wife away. She turns to Rushdie again. She levels her best Boss gaze at him and says: “Don’t screw it up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rushdie gulps as they walk away.

 

***

 

Caroline’s snark has stopped completely: that’s how Arizona knows she’s worried. She has her gaming device in her hand, of course, but her thumbs move idly across the screen and her eyes are distant. Arizona knows gaming Caroline, and this isn’t her. This is worried Caroline.

“Hey. It’s okay.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Caroline retorts, eyes cutting over to Callie and Teo, the boy’s foot beating a nervous tattoo against the tile until every so often his madre reaches over and stills his knee.

“Because it’s true, baby girl.”

Caroline makes a face and tosses her bangs out of her eyes.

“It popped,” she grimaces.

“Hmm?”

“I heard it. It popped, and she screamed. Momma, she _screamed_.”

“I’m sure it hurt,” Arizona winces.

Caroline nods absently. “But it’ll get better. Rush’ll fix her?”

“Yes.”

“But she won’t play soccer for awhile.”

It’s a statement, not a question, from her wise younger daughter.

“I don’t even know what that looks like,” Caroline admits.

 

***

 

“Hey, how’s the patient?”

Callie nearly cries at the sound of her eldest’s voice, strong and clear, through the phone.

“She’s... okay. Still in surgery.”

“Do you need me there? I can ask again for some emergency leave,” Asa says earnestly, which Callie knows means he picked up on the shakiness in her voice.

“No, no, stay. We’ve got it under control. You’ll see her at Thanksgiving.”

“But if you _need_ me,” Asa insists. “If _she--_ ”

“Stay put for now. I’ll let you know,” Callie reassures him.

Last night the Colonel intimated that leave for a non-life threatening injury to a sibling is _highly_ unlikely, but swore he would pull the necessary strings should they decide they wanted Asa home. She doesn’t bother her son with all that.

“We’ll have her call you when she’s out of surgery and a little more ‘with-it’.”

“Will she talk to me?” Asa asks.

Since last night, Lena has refused all phone calls, even from her dear brother and beloved abuelito.

“I hope so.”

“How’s Momma holding up?”

Callie looks over to where Arizona sits with an anxious Caroline and a dozing Teo slumped against her. Though Tiny Dancer’s nervous tapping has ceased, his mother has seemingly taken up the duty.

“She’s... your momma. Pretty good, considering.”

“And you, Ma?”

Callie sighs and knows she’s not fooling her twenty-year-old son.

“Not great. She’s, uh... got a long road.”

“Yeah. Stanford?”

The name makes her wince. A name repeated ad nauseum since the offer was extended. A verbal commitment, the value more in the honor of being sought after and chosen by a prestigious academic and athletic program than in the full scholarship that accompanied it, though that certainly didn’t hurt (even if Carlos Torres is still a little put out that no grandchildren have yet taken advantage of his offers to pay for school). Closer than Annapolis, thank God. All _anyone_ can talk about.

“It’s too soon to tell.” She lets the half-lie sit between them for awhile, and he doesn’t call her on it because they all want to believe it. “Actually, it’s not. There’s no way a D-1 school is going to take her for next year like this.”

Asa take in a heavy breath. “So what does that mean for next year?”

“That _is_ too soon to tell.”

“Okay.”

“It was so dumb to let--”

“Her follow her dreams?” Asa cuts her off.

“Stop being a mature almost-adult. It’s annoying.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve gotta get to class. Text me with updates. I’ll call when I can.”

“Okay. Te quiero, m’ijo.”

“Te quiero. Hang in there, Mami.”

The line disconnects, and Callie lets out a sigh, leaning back against the wall, glancing across the waiting room towards her family. Arizona meets her eyes and tries to smile, but it comes out hollow and forced.

“Is he zonked?” she asks softly as she rejoins her family.

“Mm,” Arizona hums her affirmative. “Sleepiness still trumps ‘can’t be seen cuddling with my mom’, apparently.”

“We’ve had a rough twenty-four hours.”

“Can I go get something from the cafeteria, please?” Caroline asks, abruptly standing.

“Sure,” Arizona answers, fishing in the breast pocket of her scrubs for some cash, one arm steadying the sleeping Teo as his short, tight curls scratch against her shoulder. “Get your brother a sandwich, please? It’ll be lunch soon. Calliope?”

“I’m fine. Not hungry.”

Arizona makes a face, but shoos Caroline on her way.

“You need to eat,” she frowns at her wife.

“You didn’t put an order in either,” Callie points out a little petulantly.

Arizona gives in as Callie sits down beside her, threading their fingers together and resting her head on her shoulder.

“So at least she talked to me,” Callie sighs.

“Calliope. She’s under a lot of stress.”

“She was _so angry_. Lena is so many things, but I’ve never seen her that angry.”

“It’s a lot of take. But it’s fixable.”

Last night Arizona was overcome by her fear and worry, and Callie held her until she’d cried it all out and breathed in a little sanity. Apparently it’s Callie’s turn, now.

“I wish we’d never let her touch a soccer ball.”

“Calliope, really.”

“This is my fault. You saw this coming, even when she was little. You said we shouldn’t let sports be everything. We shouldn’t be those moms.”

“We’re _not_ those moms, Callie. That grew all on its own. We supported; we didn’t push. She chose this. We gave her every out, but she loves it so much. Her grades are good, she has a social life, and she happens to be an excellent athlete. Which she certainly didn’t get from me.”

Callie smirks, just a little.

“You can be... athletic.”

Arizona gives her a look, and Callie smiles just a bit more.

“Well, you’re better at soccer than anything else,” she offers.

“Yeah. That’s not saying much.”

Callie teases: “It means we don’t fear for your life when you play.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Arizona says softly, kissing her head and squeezing her hand.

“Gonna just keep saying that until it’s true?”

“It’s always worked before.”

 

***

 

“Good morning, starshine.”

“Momma?” Lena groans groggily.

“You’re just waking up, so take your time. I’ve got you.”

Lena grimaces but manages to hold fast to Arizona’s hand. Arizona runs her fingers through her daughter’s hair, still a mess from the hair net in surgery.

“Everything went great,” Arizona continues as gently as possible. “Rush and Aunt Teddy said you were fantastic. Rushdie fixed you all up. You’ve got what your madre would call a ‘badass scar’, but it’s healing nicely already. You’ll have to use the crutches for a bit, but we’ll get you into PT asap.”

“Mmm,” Lena acknowledges. “Mami?”

“We didn’t think you’d be up yet, so I sent her for food. You know how grumpy she gets when she’s hungry.”

Lena nods sleepily.

“Don’t fight the anesthesia, baby girl. You can sleep. You’ll feel so much better when you do.”

Lena nods again, clinging tightly to her mother’s hand and slipping back into unconsciousness.

 

***

 

When she wakes, she _does_ feel so much better. The painkillers are singing through her veins, and she is coherent enough to take visits from Teddy and Grey and videochat with Asa. She’s sort of just drifting while her moms fuss about her.

A lazy, dopey smile alerts the room to her final visitor.

“Mia mia,” she greets.

“Hey, you,” Mia responds, pushing in from the doorway. Mia’d been nervous before their arrival, but seeing her somewhat like herself, blue eyes only a little dulled by the medicine, eases some of her worry.

“You’re pretty.”

“You’re drugged,” Arizona speaks up as the moms all move to the doorway to give their daughter a bit of privacy.

Somewhat alone, Mia moves to kiss her girlfriend hello, which Lena returns sloppily.

“How are you feeling? We brought you flowers,” Mia says, gesturing to one of the many arrangements littering every open surface in the room.

Squeezing Mia’s hand, Lena insists: “Bring it closer so I can see it.”

Mia complies, and Lena fawns over the flowers for a bit.

“Sorry I wasn’t at your game,” Mia says gently.

“S’okay.”

“No, I missed this. I should’ve been there for Cari and Teo at least.”

Lena shakes off her concern. “I was kinda a pansy about it. Wouldn’t want you seein’ that.”

“Lena . . .”

“How was your . . .” She racks her fuzzy brain for what exactly Mia was doing last night. She knew this.

“Concert.”

“Mm, that.”

“Singing for old people for an hour. Not exactly a great Friday.”

“S’better than the hospital.”

Mia blanches. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean--”

Lena cuts her off with a clumsy reach for her hand, the momentary shadow retreating from her face.

“Momma said you came.”

“While you were sleeping,” Mia confirms.

“Thanks. Should’ve woken me.”

“You needed your rest,” Mia shakes her head. “Have you- have you heard from Stanford?”

She regrets the question as soon as it’s out of her mouth, as Lena’s face clouds, and she looks away and drops her hands.

“Nope.”

“Oh.” Anything she says now will be placating, so she bites her lip and reaches a tentative hand to Lena’s face. “Wanna watch crappy tv?” Mia checks her phone. “Saturday afternoon. The crap factor should be high.”

Lena grumbles, then softens and hands over the remote. “Your choice.”

Mia pulls the chair as close as possible and awkwardly cuddles up, flipping through the channels. Several minutes later, Lena speaks up:

“I’m very sleepy.”

“Did you want me to go?”

“No! No. Then Mami’ll come in, and give me _that look_ and . . . No. Please don’t go.”

“Okay. I’ll stay as long as I can,” Mia promises.

“Don’t be offended if I snore. It’s not the company; it’s the drugs.”

Mia grins a little. “Got it.” She leans forward to press a sweet kiss to Lena’s chapped lips. “Get some rest.”

“Kay, Mia-mia.”

 

***

 

“Hey.”

Coach Franks is tentative, approaching her star midfielder’s mothers in the conference room where they agreed to meet her.

“Hey.”

“I got this from Coach Lopez. I thought you should read it before we give it to Lena.”

“The news?” Callie asks.

“Not good.”

Arizona knew this moment was coming, but she is still filled with sorrow. This confirmation will do nothing to help her Lena.

_Dear Coach Franks:_

_We are as devastated as you are to hear about Ms. Robbins-Torres’s injury. Please pass that on to her. We so looked forward to having her as a part of our organization and had really seen her as an integral part of our future plans._

_Per our policy, though, we must regretfully retract the scholarship offer and fill the position in our roster. Lena’s admission to Stanford of course is still extended and we firmly believe she could be a lively participant in our community. That admission, however, is no longer binding, per the terms of our agreement._

_We wish her a speedy recovery and all the best in the future._

_Sincerely, Bev Lopez_

Three paragraphs, barely, to confirm the ultimate devastation of her daughter.

She hands the sheet to Callie and watches her face crumple. They _knew,_ but still.

“So where do we go from here?” Callie asks.

“Well, she has few options,” Franks starts. “She could go to Stanford but not play soccer. She could go to Stanford, intensively rehab the knee her first year, and then pray to walk on as a sophomore. She can take a year off, intensively rehab, and shop around. Some low D1 or D2 or even D3 may bite. Go to any other school and rehab and try to walk on. Or. She finds a new dream all together. The when, where, how of her college years can be totally new, and totally hers.”

“Well, shit.”

Callie looks up sharply at her wife’s expletive.

“I’m so sorry. If there’s anything you need. If you need me to talk to her, or . . . I don’t know. I know the girls want to see her . . .”

“No,” Arizona says abruptly. “Not yet. She needs time.”

“Okay, I understand. Just tell her she’s still one of our captains, okay? No matter what. And we’re all thinking about her.”

Arizona softens. “We will.”

Callie, though, really has no more time for Coach Franks.

“If that’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Then we really have to talk to her. We’ll be in touch,” Callie says coldly.

 

***

 

Arizona finds Callie staring in the window again. It’s just their three in there, and Teo tries valiantly to entertain his dour big sister. Meds receded, Lena has returned to her pre-surgery funk.

"I got her a consult with a sports psychologist."

"You got her a psych consult?!"

"Young athletes are particularly vulnerable to psychological ramifications of surgery, Calliope, you know that. She's been extremely withdrawn. Lashing out at _you_ , which we all know is entirely un-Lena-like."

Callie lets out a heavy sigh, “You’re right. We’ll pair it with her PT. That’ll work. I know some great ones.”

“Okay. Want me to tell her? You did it Friday.”

Callie shakes her head. “No reason for her to hate us both.”

“Calliope.”

“Sorry. I just . . . Sorry. I’ll do it.”

“We’ll do it together,” Arizona insists.

“‘Kay.”

 

***

 

Lena has no reaction, which is maybe the worst case scenario.

Arizona looks to Callie, who looks pained.

“Lena. What are you feeling?” Callie has to push.

“Like someone sliced open my knee and sutured it back together,” Lena bites.

“Lena . . .”

“We already knew it was coming. Why is everyone acting like this is big news? It’s over. No more soccer. End of story.”

“There’s a lot--” Callie starts.

“I’m tired. Can we talk about this later?” Lena asks, visible struggling to remain civil.

“No,” Arizona starts to say, gently but firmly. “Coach gave us a lot of options, and I’m going to tell them all to you in a minute, after Mami and I go talk about what we’re doing for lunch. What kind of sandwich do you want Mami to get you?”

“Turkey,” Lena huffs.

“Great. Sit tight.”

Arizona pulls Callie towards the door and closes the door behind them. Lena’s eyes may be worryingly dry post-surgery, but Callie’s are wide and wet.

“She’s just lashing out,” Arizona says softly, kissing her wife’s cheek.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re her Mami and you’ll never stop loving her. And . . .”

“And?”

“And maybe she thinks she’s let you down.”

“How?”

“Because she’s Mami’s little star. And you taught her all the ways to avoid a career ending injury.”

Arizona nods.

“Well, shit,” Callie echoes her wife’s earlier curse.

“It’s not your fault. Or her fault. Or anyone’s. It’s just going to take time. Maybe it’s something to bring up with her psychologist.”

“Okay. Turkey for you too?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Callie sighs and turns to leave, shoulders stooped. Arizona catches her hand and spins her back, folding her into a tight embrace.

“Hey, we’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

Callie holds her close and prays she’s right.

 

***

***

 

Both master bedroom and playroom are offered to the patient, but she desperately wants her own familiar space. So Callie consults with Physical Therapist Justin, and they decide that as long as she isn’t up and down the stairs more than four or five times a day, it will even be beneficial to her. Teo and Caroline are put on strict watchdog duty, and Grey, when on hand, has been known to gently pick her up under vehement protest and deliver her onto her desired floor.

Mia picks up Lena’s carpool shifts; it could easily be Grey carting the Robbins-Torres and Sloan kids around, but, since he got his license suspended from his second outrageous speeding ticket in the year and his parents took away his car, he’s out.

Grey is always there to help in other ways, though, besides the staircase shuffle. In fact, it is Grey who accompanies her to her first PT appointment, and all subsequent ones, not Mia (offered and declined), Arizona (offered and more tersely declined), or Callie (refused before it could even be offered). Armed with his own football experience, plus advice from Midshipman Asa, Grey manages to stay super tough and uncompromising as he assists Justin while still being there as physical and emotional support for Lena.

That’s not to say Callie isn’t watching every single one, surreptitiously, from outside the door.

Lena’s recovery is on the slower end of the average range. Nothing to be worried about per se, but Lena is a driven athlete in prime condition, and Callie thought she would throw herself two hundred percent into the PT, break all the records and achieve every goal at blistering speeds.

“It’s completely normal,” Dr. Chavez, Lena's psychologist, says every time Callie brings it up. “It’s to be expected, Dr. Torres.”

But her Lena isn’t, her kids aren’t, “normal” and “expected.” Her kids are extraordinary, her Lena especially when it comes to mental and physical discipline.

“Give her time,” even Arizona insists.

But that’s easy for her to say when she actually coaxes something close to everyday banter and conversation out of their daughter, hollow though it may be. For Mami, Lena is either terse or stonily silent.

With the aid of crutches, Lena is back in school, even though her moms would rather have her close. Mia steps in ably, though, her assigned “buddy” at school, and it’s with her that Lena musters the closest thing to her old self. Mia tempers her harder edges and smoothes her tension, and in general keeps her more balanced, though even Mia mia isn’t immune to the occasional biting retort or snarky comeback.

The Robbins-Torres household finds an uneasy rhythm as November approaches.

 

***

 

“Hey,” Arizona greets Callie, pressing a warm kiss to the corner of her lips and then flopping into bed beside her, still in her clothes. “Sorry I’m late. From the sound of things upstairs, all the little mice are asleep or soon to be. How was your day?”

“I operated on a forty-three-year-old man today, ACL repair. I told him it would be a while, if ever, before he regained his weekend cycling speeds. He cried like a baby.”

“Okay?” Arizona questions, reaching a hand out sloppily to squeeze her shoulder, face down in her pillow.

“Lena hasn’t cried yet. Not around me, at least.”

"Calliope..."

"Why hasn't she cried? That's not normal, right?"

"Dr. Chavez says she's doing okay. It just takes time."

"She's not okay, Arizona. You can't spend time with her and tell me she's okay."

"Callie," Arizona says, losing her patience, sitting up and looking at her wife. "I know that this is awful, and stressful, and painful. It kills me to see her struggling with this, too. But we're doing all we can for Lena. All we can do is keep supporting her and loving her, and maybe just giving her space."

"I can't just sit here and watch her suffer."

"You're not. You're doing _everything_ you can."

"I'm not doing _anything_ ," Callie says, clearly anguished.

Arizona sighs, taking her wife into her arms. "I know. It's hard. I know." She kisses Callie's cheek. "She just has to process in her own time."

 

***

 

Caroline wakes to a clatter of aluminum on tile and a choked sob. She’s out of bed in a second, sprinting towards the dim light of the bathroom she shares with her sister.

The sight that greets her brings a pang to her heart. Crutches fallen uselessly to the side, Lena holds herself up on the bathroom counter, arms quivering with the effort and a frustrated, mortified look crossing her face.

“Sorry,” she sobs, expression crumpling and head falling in defeat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Caroline cuts her off, moving immediately to her side, tucking her shoulder under Lena’s arm and wrapping a strong arm around her middle. Lena may have three years on her, but Cari is just as tall and easily holds up her more petite sister. “Te tengo.” [I’ve got you.]

“I woke you,” Lena groans miserably.

“No, your stupid crutches did.”

“I can’t even pee without help,” she cries, finally giving in and burying her face in her baby sister’s neck, hot tears hitting Caroline’s skin.

“Well,” Caroline says, free hand coming up to stroke Lena’s messy curls. “That’s probably what you have a little sister for.”

“Well, yeah. You’re not good for anything else,” Lena laughs, just the tiniest bit, even if it sounds far away and a little hollow. Any sort of laugh, though, Caroline counts as a victory.

“Rude. Te dejaré a caer, Lena-nena.” [I’ll let you fall.]

“Please don’t,” Lena says, suddenly sounding so small.

“Hey, te dije: te tengo.” [I told you: I have you.]

“Gracias.”

Caroline nods as she helps Lena push down her pajama pants and settle onto the toilet before going to retrieve the crutches that deserted her big sister in her hour of need.

“Yell next time,” Caroline orders sternly, keeping out of her voice the tremor of uneasiness that seeing her sister like this, small and needy and hurting, brings out in her.

“Tienes que dormir.” [You have to sleep.]

“Siempre. Pero necesitas ayuda.” [Always. But you need help.]

Lena grimaces but gladly takes the crutches that Cari holds steady for her and with a flush, they hobble back to the sink where Lena washes her hands, once again leaning heavily against the counter.

“Does it hurt really bad?” Caroline ventures as she helps guide her sister back to bed.

“Like hell. Everywhere. The crutches make my whole body hurt, and the knee does the rest.”

“Want me to punch you in the face? It’ll draw attention away from your knee.”

“No, thanks, Cari. Estoy bien.”

Caroline grins and helps lift the knee in question back into the bed, then reaching to pull the covers up nice and tight under her chin.

“Well, yell when you gotta pee again. Or at least maybe duct tape the crutches to your hands?”

“Not a terrible idea,” Lena grunts. Then her face softens for a moment and she repeats: “Gracias.”

Caroline wipes the tear tracks from her big sister’s cheeks. “Don’t tell anyone. Reputation and all that.”

“No, really. You don’t... You don’t treat me differently. So, thanks.”

Caroline places a kiss to Lena’s temple, unsettled by this momentarily open, more normal Lena. She shrugs.

“Te tengo.”

 

***

 

“Hi, Lena-nena.”

“Hey, Tiny Dancer.”

“Can I sit with you?” the eleven-year-old asks.

Lena pats the seat beside her, not exactly thrilled with the idea but allowing it. He’s mostly kept out of her way for the twelve days since the knee, so he’s on her good list.

“Tie’s crooked,” she can’t help but mother, hooking one arm through her crutches to keep them upright while leaning forward to tighten his red uniform tie.

He grins and tosses his backpack and navy blazer onto the cafeteria table.

“Yours, too,” he laughs, nimble fingers making quick work of bettering her tie, too.

He taps her bare leg right above the brace and below her plaid skirt.

“Where’s Mia tuya?” [Where’s your Mia?]

“She had choir practice; just dropped me and Grey and the girls off. Don’t you have dance?”

“Yesterday. And tomorrow.”

“It’s Wednesday already?”

Teo nods, settling into a chair. “We’re doing pre-algebra.” He makes a face like any good sixth grader. “Can you help?”

“Sure, hermanito. ¿Qué más puedo hácer?” [What more can I do?] She asks wryly as he pulls out his book. “¿Bailo?” [Dance?]

She snorts at the thought, and Teo shrugs.

“Sure. Puedes bailar con más que las piernas, silly. Y tienes una perfecta.” [You can dance with more than legs, silly. And you have one perfect one.]

Lena looks at him speciously and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll show you; after homework cause Mas will kill me.”

“Whatever you say, Teo,” Lena scoffs and sets about talking him through the basics of x and y.

Thirty minutes later, though, his iPod is blaring their beloved Stevie Wonder, and Teo, also keeping himself seatbound for now, guides her through an elaborate monkey-see, monkey-do, call and response dance.

They attract a few stares but everyone gives them their space. By the end, Lena is smiling and has even let out a soft laugh or two, and Teo just beams and gets goofier.

They dance until Lena jostles that knee just a little too much. She makes a face, and a squeak, and then bites back a sharp curse. “Sh-!”

She freezes, and Teo does, too, reaching gently for her arm.

“You can say ‘shit’, you know.”

“Teo!” she exclaims, half-shocked, half-reproachful.

“I’m almost twelve. I know how to curse. I even know some bad ones.”

“You’re not almost twelve.”

“Eleven and a half,” Teo counters. “It hurts. You can curse.”

“It hurts like shit.”

“I know, dammit,” Teo adds.

Lena snorts despite herself.

“Holy hell it hurts,” she kinda smiles.

“Fu-.”

“Mateo Oliver! Don’t you dare!” Lena cries, slapping a hand over his mouth. “You’re gonna get us both in a ton of trouble. You’re definitely not supposed to know that word.”

“Puedo usarlo en dos lenguas.” [I know it in two languages.]

“Teo,” Lena shakes her head. “Okay, bubba, más tarea, ¿no?” [More homework, yeah?]

They return to the table and Teo’s homework.

“Caroline said you’re going to the soccer game on Friday,” Teo says as he readies his next assignment.

“It’s game day. I’m a captain. At least I think I still am.” She bites her lip and digs out her own schoolwork.

“But won’t it be hard?”

Lena takes in a deep breath and shrugs. “I guess we’ll see.”

 

***

 

Lena takes the first tentative step, feeling the rubber tip of the crutches sinking into the turf, the grass crunching under her good foot. The pitch stretches out around her. She hears the other seniors leading the team through their warm ups, the rhythmic pounding of cleats on the field, clipped yells alternating between nagging and encouraging. She smells the grass and the crappy popcorn and the used orange slices. She feels the tug of familiarity.

She also feels her mother's eyes on her like a hawk, studying her face, her shoulders, her knee, so she struggles to appear anything but what she is actually feeling.

Which is devastated.

She must fail, though, because her momma speaks up.

"Lena, you don't have to do this. We don't have to be here."

Lena looks over to the stands, where Mia and Grey sit, also watching her as if she is going to shatter at any minute.

Maybe she is.

"I do. They're still my team."

"They are, baby, but-"

"It's okay, Momma. I'll make it."

She draws in a shuddering breath, praying her mother won't move to embrace her. She won't be able to hold back these tears if she does.

"At least sit down for me, Lena-bug," Arizona begs, her own voice thick.

"Yes, ma'am."

Lena takes up her spot on the bench until the warm-ups are done, Coach Franks coming over to talk to her gently for a bit. Arizona gives them a bit of space, but still casually listens in as she notices her wife moving into the row with Grey and Mia. She must have just gotten here from work.

“Hey, Coach,” Lena says.

“Lena, how are you feeling? We’re all so glad to see you.”

“Glad to be here,” Lena answers like a good little soldier.

Franks smiles softly and hands over a pristine captain’s band.

“Heard they cut the other one off you at the ER,” she says. “It’s still yours to wear. I’d love you to take the coin toss with Erin like usual, maybe help me with a little coaching on the sidelines? We all missed you last week. You’re still a part of this team.”

Lena bites her lip. “Really?”

“Of course. That means you better get your butt to practice next week, huh? As much as you can,” Franks qualifies.

“You got it, Coach.”

“Alright, I’m gonna put Sasha in at your position again. She did well last week, but I think you could give her a few pointers. Up for it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Franks grins. “Four years later, Lena, and it still freaks me out when you do that.”

“Sorry, Coach.”

 

***

 

Callie wonders if it is painfully obvious that their entire row is watching one limping girl on the sidelines instead of the rest of the team or the game at all. It probably is, but it doesn’t deter herself, Arizona, Grey, or Mia from doing just that.

Lena shouts encouragement and talks with the underclassmen riding the bench and greets every subbed out player with a bottle of water.

When the team scores their first goal of the night, the young striker who scored it- a sophomore named Carly- runs over to the sideline to hug her injured captain, to the point that Franks has to scream at her to get back onto the field before they get a penalty for delay of game. Far away in the goal, Erin, Lena’s co-captain and a talented goalkeeper recruited to a Division III school, throws up her hands in her side of their post-goal, superstitious ritual, and Lena gives a bittersweet smile before approximating her side of it back.

On the sidelines, half-cheerleading, half-coaching, Lena is however momentarily her old self, bright and passionate and charming. But Callie sees that it must take all of her energy, every effort she can muster, because she becomes a shell once they’re hobbling back to the car.

While Mia and Lena say their goodbyes, Grey hovers awkwardly close, trying to give them space but not lose out on any of his rides home. A few steps away, Callie talks over the plan for the evening with Arizona.

“Why don’t you take Grey and go trade him for our kids at the Sloans’?”

Arizona laughs a little. “They’re not ransom, Calliope.”

“No one would pay for them,” Callie teases.

“Oh, I don’t know. I would, maybe. It would depend on when the last time they woke me up with surround sound video games or eleven at night tap dance practice in the playroom was.”

Callie rolls her eyes a little at her goofy wife. “Go get ‘em. And then maybe take them out to dinner? I’ll get Lena home to rest.”

Arizona’s eyes cut over to their daughter. “Are you sure that’s the best way to do it?”

Callie nods. “Maybe I can get through to her.”

 

***

***

 

Callie’s initial efforts are met with eye rolls and silence. Further prodding into her elder daughter’s state of mind is met with a huff and a resigned response.

“You know what it was like today? My knee hurts, I’m sweaty and covered in bug spray, and I just watched a freshman replace me. And the worst part? We still did great. We’re amazing this year. We’ll be in the state playoffs, no problem. Maybe even all the way to finals. But I won’t be a part of it.”

“Momma said Coach Franks wants you to stay on and be a part of the team.”

Lena clams up again, merely grumbling a weak: “Not the same.”

The heavy silence settles between them again as Callie pulls into the garage. Lena swings herself out of the car (which tells Callie that she might be holding back some in PT) and starts crutching towards the kitchen. Callie soon catches up to her daughter, the last of her patience worn thin as Lena almost angrily tosses her warm-up jacket onto the stool at the breakfast bar. Something in her snaps.

“I get it, okay?” Callie finally explodes. “I get that I can never actually get it. I can’t bring it all back, but you know what I can do?”

“What?” Lena demands.

“I can wash your hair.”

“What?!”

"Come with me, sit your cute little butt down, and I’m gonna do the one thing I can actually control.”

“Which is . . . my hair?”

“Yes, now, let’s go,” Callie orders, thrusting Lena’s crutches at her.

“Okay . . .” Lena draws out, too confused to supply any of the attitude that has been ever present these days. She helps herself to her feet with a second nature born of repetition, and Callie really wishes she didn’t have those crutches reflexes.

Callie takes up a kitchen chair and leads Lena, crutches clicking on the hardwood floors, back to the master bedroom. She backs the chair against Arizona’s sink, because Mami’s a slob and Momma’s not. She points in a wordless order to ‘sit your ass down’ and ducks into the shower to grab Arizona’s shampoo and conditioner (they have the same hair, after all). Lena’s confusion turns to concern as Callie starts getting the water hot.

“Mami--”

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” Callie snaps. Then, a little more gently, “Take off your shirt.”

Lena complies, tossing the T-shirt to the ground and leaning onto the towel Callie has placed for her.

Fingers combing through those soapy waves, Callie’s taken back ten, eleven, twelve years, when washing Lena’s unruly curls for her was an everyday occurrence, when bath time was full of her baby girl’s bright laughter. Mischievous Lena was known to splash a little more than was usually tolerated in the Robbins-Torres household, but one flash of the dimples that mirrored her mother’s almost always soothed her madre’s ire. In fact, much to Arizona’s dismay, it often dissolved into a Mami/Lena splash battle. Callie would give anything for a flash of that devilish smile now.

Between the sound and feel of the running water, it takes a while for Callie to catch on, and her heart breaks even as a burden feels lifted from her shoulders.

Lena is sobbing as Callie gently massages conditioner into her scalp. It’s the first time, that Callie has seen, that her little girl has actually broken down and let her despair out. Callie makes no comment and continues to wash out her hair. That done, she wrings it out before applying her ortho hands to the knots that two weeks of crutches have wrought in her neck.

The sobs even out to a steadier stream of tears and sniffles as Callie wordlessly pats her hair dry and sits her up. The angle is pretty awkward but she gathers her baby girl into her arms and rocks back and forth, going so far as to gently lift Lena to her feet and drop onto the seat in her place, letting Lena and her terribly bony butt curl into her lap.

“Oh, Lena. Oh mi nena.” [Oh my baby.]

Lena buries her face into her madre’s neck and holds on tight. Callie whispers encouragingly into her hair and sings bars of old lullabies as Lena lets it all out. Arizona, returned from dinner and the ice cream shop, appears in the doorway with a concerned, questioning look, but Callie gives her a thumbs up and continues to rock their daughter as Arizona retreats to keep the other two busy.

“I don’t want to go to Stanford,” Lena finally admits between gulping breaths. “Mami, I don’t wanna go if I can’t play. Mami, please. No quiero.”

“Hey, shh. It’s okay.   You don’t have to. Leni, no one is making you,” Callie whispers.

Lena nods and continues crying, and Callie’s heart continues to break into tiny pieces. They stay like that for who knows how long, Callie rocking her baby girl while Lena mourns one future and faces the fear of an uncertain other.

“You’ll be great wherever you go, and whatever you do,” Callie swears.

 

***

 

"Hey, Lena-bug."

Lena looks up from the Saturday morning cartoons, hand absently rubbing above her brace.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Can we talk for a bit?"

It's a sign of how far Lena has come in two weeks that she doesn't grimace or complain, just shrugs her acquiescence.

"Mami told me about last night. I know it's really soon but we should probably start talking about schools."

"Okay..." Lena shrugs as Arizona sits down on the couch beside her

“If you could go anywhere in the world, soccer team irrelevant, where would you go?”

“I don’t know. Soccer’s always been a deciding factor.”

“Well, let’s do some research. Deadlines are about six weeks away. It’ll be a crunch but you can do it.”

"I just..." Lena pulls a face. "What's the point? Everything is sh-crap now anyway. No one's gonna want me with this knee. I had everything and now it's..."

"That's it. I'm done," Arizona finally sighs, throwing her hands in the air.

"Momma?"

"You still have everything, Lena. You have great grades, great friends, a supportive girlfriend, a family that loves you more than anything, and a whole future in front of you. What more do you want?"

Lena gapes in response.

"I know that it _sucks_ that you won't be playing soccer at Stanford next year. It really sucks. But you can do anything else. You know your abuelo will get you into literally any school you want to go to. So let's pick some schools, hmm?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lena eeps.

"Good. Now we're going to make the first list. Here." She hands over a tablet, already keyed into the Princeton Review's school rankings.

 

 

***

 

“Okay. Here is the deal. Aunt Rachel is in charge. Anyone is allowed to sleepover as long as she okays it. Yes, this includes Mia. However, _all_ sleepovers will take place on the pull-out sofas in the playroom. Yes, this includes Mia, and you _all_ have to sleep in there. There may be canoodling, but no hanky-panky. Is that perfectly clear?”

Arizona surveys her very serious troops seated around the breakfast bar for lunch.

“Yes, ma’am!” they snap, so well-trained.

The illusion is broken, however, when Lena snorts and giggles:

“Canoodling? Hanky-panky?”

“Ma, are you a hundred years old?” Caroline adds, Lena laughing harder and Teo joining in.

She knows she’s being mocked, but it’s such a joyful noise to hear all three laughs in chorus again after their stressful, devastating three weeks.

“Okay. Be _good,_ alright? We’re trusting you. Look after each other. Look after Aunt Rachel. No fighting. No bickering. Ice cream sugar comas at a minimum. Oh, and Mateíto, please don’t forget to feed the chickies.”

Teo salutes. “Okay. Go get Mami from work. Kiss her again for us.”

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Arizona grins, gathering them up for a giant hug, grateful no more crutches impede her. She releases Teo and Cari first, whispering in Lena’s ear:

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Go, Momma. I’ll be fine. Aunt Rachel, Mia, Cari, _and_ Teo will watch me like hawks, I know. Go!”

She’s still quicker to anger and prone to bouts of forelorn dejection, but little by little their Lena-nena is returning.

“Okay, I love you.”

“Te quiero también, Momma.”

 

***

 

“I feel _so_ guilty.”

Arizona gives a soft laugh, lifting her hand out of the bubbles to trace over Callie’s, leaning back against her wife’s chest and enjoying the peaceful comfort of her arms wrapped around her and warm bath surrounding her.

“Guilty? Not what I thought you were feeling a few minutes ago,” Arizona teases, twisting around to kiss Callie’s cheek.

“Well, no,” Callie allows with an easy, brief smile. “Just... _thank you_ , for this. I know Thanksgiving will be insane, and things with Lena have been _beyond_ insane. We needed this. You, me, and a B  & B. It’s perfect. I just feel guilty for leaving her.”

“She’s fine. Better than fine. We all needed a break.”

“Mm,” Callie vaguely agrees, and Arizona can feel her mind wandering, over thinking.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“What’s always on my mind? What if I’d fought Bailey and done the surgery myself? What if I’d worked on tendons instead of cartilage? What if I’d figured out how to make ACL tears as simple as sprained ankles?”

"Calliope," Arizona says gently. "It wasn't the surgeon, or the procedure, or even the injury. It was the timing. It was Stanford not willing to bet on her."

"But I could've-"

"I know you blame yourself. And Lena does, too. Blame herself, that is."

Callie's brow wrinkles.

"She feels it all, but all she takes from it is that you're disappointed. She was the rock star athlete daughter of a rock star ortho surgeon. She knows you bragged about her all the time. That's normal. But maybe... That's not the reminder she needs."

"She told you all this?"

Arizona shakes her head. "She's part me and part you. The two people I think I know best in this world."

Callie gives a small smile.

"I guess that means I'm kind of sucking at this then, huh?"

"No! No, it's hard on both of you. On all of us. She won't see the light at the end of the tunnel until she starts making more progress. You seemed to get through to her the other night. Just be patient. I know that's hard for you."

Arizona softens the last bit with a teasing lilt and warm grin.

"What are you insinuating, Dr. Robbins?" Callie smiles back, filing Lena away for later. Arizona surprised her with this evening away for the purpose of taking a breather before Thanksgiving, not to spend more time navel-gazing about their slowly healing little girl.

"That we haven't even unpacked because you were so impatient to get me in this tub."

Callie laughs throatily and buries her face in Arizona's soft hair, curly from the humidity and damp at the ends where the water has creeped into it.

“You have me there. Hot wife and big tub? I can’t resist.”

“You know we have one of these at home, right?” Arizona laughs.

“Mm,” Callie hums, brushing Arizona’s hair to one side and starting to press kisses along the back of her neck. “We should use it more often.”

Arizona laughs, fingers finding Callie’s knee and tracing lazy circles around it.

“Okay, I’ll pencil that in.”

 

***

 

“I’m jealous,” Mia admits, snuggled up next to Lena as best she can and discussing Grey's latest affront to Lena's dignity, carrying her across the parking lot last night after the soccer game because he found her crutches-free hobbling even more pitiful than the aided version.

“Mia...” Lena protests.

“Not of you and Grey,” Mia flushes. “Just of... Grey. He can actually do something to help. To take care of you. I can only bring so much soup and flowers.”

"Hey, you're doing stuff. I wouldn't want anyone else helping me pick schools where I won't be playing soccer," Lena teases, the usual bitterness reemerging.

"But I thought Coach said you could rehab and play somewhere."

Lena shrugs. "I'm over it."

"Lena..."

"It's dumb. Work my ass off for something that can get taken away in a second? And for how long? It's not like I'll be doing this professionally."

"Why not?"

"I'm not _that_ good."

Mia scoffs.

"Anyway, Torres aren't _professional athletes._ For that matter, neither are Robbins. They're soldiers, and doctors, and businessmen. Hell, when Abuelito was helping me consider scholarship offers, he ranked them by business school. I know I'm expected to be _better_."

"Lena, I'm sure that's not true."

But Lena's over this line of questioning, instead doing her best to distract Mia with wandering hands. Mia gives in, pushing up to kiss her as best she can.

After several minutes, Lena grunts in annoyance, flopping against her pillows.

"What? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Mia asks, pulling away and searching her for any sign of injury.

"No! I can't feel you like this," she pouts, fingers plucking at the thin fabric of Mia's uniform shirt, reaching a hand up to tug her tie loose.

"Lena... I don't wanna hurt you," Mia tries to soothe, biting back a grin and tucking hair behind Lena's ear. She gently comes in for another kiss, giving an annoyed sigh of her own. This angle _does_ suck.

"My godmom won't be here for an hour," Lena whispers against Mia's cheek. "We can figure out _something_ to do during that time."

Mia pulls away and feels the full brunt on Lena's puppy dog look.

"Okay," Mia sighs, sitting up to survey their options. "You have to tell me if it hurts. You don't wanna explain to Rushdie how exactly you screwed up your knee again, do you?"

"It'd be worth it," Lena grins cheekily.

"You're incorrigible," Mia shakes her head, eyes bright. She scoots up further and then very carefully swings a leg over Lena's hip. Straddling her, she asks: "How's that?"

"It'll do."

Mia pauses, and Lena groans.

"What?" she whines pitifully.

"Grey told me you're behind in PT," Mia says, pinning Lena's roaming hands to the bed.

Lena huffs and drops her head to the pillow.

"Tattle tale."

"Why? Do you wanna be a gimp for longer?"

Lena makes a face.

Mia leans down and starts pressing delicate kisses to Lena's neck, hips pressing forward and hands holding fast.

"You don't wanna be limited to _this_ for any longer than necessary, do you?"

Lena lets out another moan, more insistent this time.

"No."

"So you'll try? Extra hard, just for me?"

Lena nods vehemently, straining up to desperately try to kiss her Mia mia. Mia laughs sweetly and stays just out of range, just about to give in when they hear a crash from the bathroom.

"Crap, ouch!"

"Well maybe if you looked where you were going, Cari," Susie Sloan laughs as the freshmen emerge from the girls' shared bathroom.

"I don't wanna see what they're doing!" Caroline exclaims, hands firmly over her eyes. "They're like rabbits."

Susie rolls her eyes and gives a wave. Mia sits up quickly, and Lena winces. Releasing her hands, Mia flashes her an apologetic smile.

"We're relatively PG. You can open your eyes," Lena sighs.

"Nope."

"What's up, then?" Lena demands, lifting herself up onto her elbows.

"Just got off the phone with Aunt Rach. She'll be here in less than an hour. Just a heads up."

"Thanks," Mia grins warmly.

"This is your last warning. I don't care if you get caught."

Susie shakes her head and grabs Cari's elbow to lead her away.

"Yes, you're very tough," the youngest Sloan placates her best friend.

"Hey, Car," Lena calls after them. "Will you make sure the boys haven't set anything on fire?"

Mia bites back a laugh as Caroline grumbles a yes and closes the door behind them. Lena's hands immediately find Mia's hips.

"Now where were we?"

"I believe you were just about to promise me that you would work very hard at PT from now on."

"Yes, yes, I promise," Lena insists.

"I'm going to have Grey keep reporting back to me."

"Okay, okay! Now please..."

"Please, what?"

Lena growls and Mia laughs, finally, slowly, lowering her lips to Lena's.

 

***

 

Asa arrives home Wednesday in the late afternoon to a house full of four grandparents, three siblings, and two moms. The atmosphere is... surprisingly not bad, considering the circumstances and the full house. Considering his east coast jet lag, he’s up far later than he should be, but everyone wants face time with him. Everyone, that is, but the one person he is determined to get one on one.

He has to wait out everyone else, but she’s waiting too, and he takes that as a good sign. Around 9:00, the grandparents all head up to bed. At 10:00, it’s the moms’ turn, and while Cari and Teo entertain Lena in the playroom (turned Asa’s bedroom for the holiday since the Robbins are sleeping there), Asa walks them down the hall to their bedroom door.

“She looks good,” he smiles. “It’s been less than a month. She looks really good.”

“She’s coming along,” Callie allows before reaching up to pull him into a bear hug. “It’s good to have you home, m’ijo.”

“Glad to be home, Ma.”

He kisses her cheek goodnight and moves on to his mother as his madre heads off to get ready for bed.

“Hey, bubba. Welcome home,” Arizona smiles at him as he enfolds her in a warm hug. She’s gotten so used to him towering over her that she finds it more comforting than disconcerting these days, especially if she doesn’t think too hard about how she used to be able to hold him with just two hands.

“Thanks, Momma. How are those two doing?” he gestures in the door where Callie has disappeared.

“They’re getting better, I think. You’ll have to talk to Lena for details.”

“I’m on it,” he gives a sloppy salute.

“They’ll drum you out of the academy for that one, sailor,” Arizona grins.

“Yes, ma’am. Goodnight, Momma. Love you,” he kisses her cheek.

“Love you, too.”

When he gets back to the rec room, Teo and Caroline are flipping through their game collection, bickering over picking one.

“No, Tiny Dancer, no more stupid dancing games. We’re going to play something real.”

“They’re real!” Teo objects, nudging her with his shoulder as he fights for possession of the primary controller.

Lena meets Asa’s eyes as he enters the room and gives a giant eye roll. He smiles at her and clears his throat.

“Come on, guys. We all know we’re going to play Mario Kart anyway.”

“Actually,” Lena speaks up, one of the few times she has tonight. “I’d kinda prefer Smash Brothers.”

“Ah, Smash Brothers, that’s perfect!” Caroline exclaims, leaning over to kiss Lena’s cheek. “You’re a genius.”

Lena rolls her eyes again, but this time it’s affectionate. This is new since he saw them this summer. They’ve always been on and off again close, but the emergence of Caroline as over-protective, increasingly gentle little sister is new, and even more unexpected is Lena’s tolerance of it.

“Teo?” Asa asks for the final vote.

“Sure,” the youngest acquiesces, settling in beside Asa on the couch. “But we’re playing girls versus boys.”

 

***

 

Asa sends Caroline and Teo up to bed far later than they really should be up. _Way_ later than he would’ve ever been allowed to be up at age eleven, but he guesses that’s part of the perks of being the youngest of four.

That leaves him and Lena, all alone in their big house full of sleeping family.

“How are you holding up, Leni?”

Lena snorts. “Where to start?”

“What are you doing next year?” Asa presses again, not allowing her to avoid the question.

Lena sighs. “I don’t know. I have a few apps to finish after my birthday. I have to get them in by Christmas.”

“To where?”

“Anywhere but Stanford?”

“Lena...”

“Um, a few east coast schools. I really liked Yale and Columbia and NYU. Cal. UCLA with Katie. Hopkins, which made Momma happy. Miami, because South Beach. And bikinis.”

“Oh I’m sure Mia is excited about that one.”

Lena frowns a bit. “No, not really.”

“Where is she going?”

“She applied all West Coast. We’ve got some crossover.”

“And if you don’t get into the same places?” Asa asks. He’s never been one to pull punches with his baby sister (both literally and figuratively), and he refuses to tip toe around her and her broken bad moods like his moms still seem to be.

Lena cringes. “We haven’t really talked about it yet. Or even if we do.”

“Aha.”

She’s picking at the leather of the sectional couch, whose recliner footrest is kicked out to support her knee. She bites her lip.

“And soccer, Lena? I’ve heard a few rumors.”

“Nah. Don’t think so.”

“Lena, that’s... You have a lot of options. You can play again.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Why not?” Asa demands.

“’Cause I’m done. ‘Cause I screwed my knee, and that world is done.”

“That’s a bullshit answer.”

Her eyes flash angrily but she backpedals and rephrases, dropping the attitude and flashing a hesitant but earnest smile.

"I think I'm starting to like the idea of being whoever the hell I want to be. Someone I haven’t even imagined."

Asa grins warmly, slinging an arm over his sister’s shoulder.

"Now _that_ is the right answer."

***

 

"Good afternoon, Nurse Francis."

The lilt, the smile so obvious she doesn't even need to see it, brings an answering grin to Jane's face.

"Hey there, Lena."

"How about a pick me up?" the teen smiles, offering over one of the coffees in the tray she carries.

"Are you saying I look _tired_?" Jane teases.

Lena looks mock-affronted. "Never. You look absolutely lovely."

Jane laughs and sips the warm latte. It's been a while since she's seen Dr. Robbins's flirtatious daughter. More mobile now and with no spring league soccer to distract her, Lena resumed her administrative work in the peds ward in the winter, but a month or so ago transferred over to do grunt work for the hospital's general counsel.

"What are you doing here, Miss Lena? I thought Legal swooped in and stole you from us."

"They did," Dr. Robbins interrupts, joining them at the nurse's station, chart in hand. "She's supposed to be up there learning important things, like how to not sexually harass the hospital staff."

Lena grins, dimples deep, at her mother. "Just bringing coffee to my favorite nurses in the hospital. And my momma, of course."

Dr. Robbins rolls her eyes, but it's with obvious affection, as she plucks a latte from the tray.

"Always bribing me with coffee," she sighs, granting her daughter a dimpled smile of her own before leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"'Cause it works every time."

"Yeah, yeah. You done at work?"

"Mhmm! Headed up to meet Grey at the gym. Justin said he'd try to stop by to check my progress. I think he just misses seeing me more than once a week."

"Oh yes, no one can handle such time apart from you," Arizona teases her.

"Sadly true," Lena nods earnestly.

"Any news-"

"Nope," Lena cuts off her question. "You'll know when I know."

"Sounds good."

"I should get going. It was good to see you, Nurse Francis."

"You, too, Lena. Thanks for the coffee. Stay out of trouble."

Lena kisses her mother again and winks at Jane as she starts to walk away, the traces of limp gone from her gait.

"I always try."

"It just never works," Robbins calls after her, and Lena lets out a laugh as she passes through the peds ward's swinging doors.

"She seems to be doing well," Jane remarks.

"A lot better," Robbins muses, sipping on her coffee. "The biggest drama now is waiting on those college acceptance letters."

"Ooh. Still no word?" Jane asks.

Arizona shakes her head. "Tomorrow is apparently The Big Day."

"We'll have the streamers and sparkling cider ready and waiting."

 

***

 

Even though their communication has opened up drastically since Thanksgiving, Lena still doesn't want Callie present for anything related to her PT. So Callie is still hiding and spying a little to track her progress, which has markedly improved since before the holidays.

The PT technicians, nurses, and trainers are used to it by now, since Lena often uses the hospital gym for her workouts for convenience's sake, where Callie usually puts in an appearance.

Today, in a continuance of a slightly disturbing trend Callie has just started to notice, the PT staff are staring a bit at her little girl, who hops from the elliptical and her playful challenge with Baby Grey Sloan to stretch out on the mats. They tease and laugh as they do it, and every time her Lena's dimples pop like that these days, Callie is delighted.

Less delightful? The drooling over her pretty baby girl.

"Hey," Callie snaps. "She might be eighteen, but she's still in high school. Knock it off."

The assembled young staffers have the decency to look embarrassed as they disperse. Callie looks back to Lena, with her tiny shorts and long legs, and fights the urge to go cover her with her lab coat.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Torres," PT wizard Justin greets her, moving through the dispersing staff. "She's coming along nicely. Really nicely. She's a PT rockstar. Her turn around has been extremely impressive."

"Don't look at me," Callie refuses all credit. "I don't know what kicked in her motivation."

"Well, regardless. Whatever schools she gets into, she's got a pretty strong shot of walking on to the soccer team. Possibly even in the fall if she pushes extra hard, definitely in a year."

Callie makes a face. "That's great, really, Justin, but she won't."

"What?"

"She hasn't told you?"

"No?"

"Lena announced around Christmas that she is done with soccer. Presumably forever."

"She'll change her mind," Justin insists. "She has such a passion, such a talent."

"Not any time soon. Her therapist says she's come to a rational, well-thought out decision, and it sounds good to me, too. She said she wants to see what else she can do."

"Seems fair to me," Justin admits with some disappointment.

"Me too. Still not sure if it feels _right_ though."

Justin nods. "I gotta go talk to her, and then they'll be headed out. You should probably wait outside for her, ma'am."

 

***

 

"How's my ma?" Lena asks cheekily as Justin joins her and Grey in their stretches.

"You should just tell her you know and it's okay if she watches."

"That's not as fun as watching her try to be sneaky, Trainer J."

Justin shakes his head.

"Alright, give me the synopsis so you can get on your way."

 

***

 

"Hey, Mami," Lena grins warmly.

It's taken months of talks, tears, and the occasional group chat with Dr. Chavez, but Callie feels like they're getting as close as they were before. It'll never be exactly the same between them, of course; the injury has precipitated a lot of growth in their Lena-nena. Though still very adolescent in some ways, Callie thinks her little girl might be a little more adult than kid these days. She’s still very much Mami’s girl, just with a little more maturity and reality to temper that sweet, childlike hero worship,

Callie gives her sweaty daughter a hug and kisses her cheek.

"You stink."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hi, Aunt Callie."

"Hey, Baby Grey. Leni, you're my ride home. Your mom's gonna be here forever, and we took one car today."

"So romantic," Lena teases, and Callie swats her rump.

"Your mom and I don't find cars as amorosos as you and Mia mia do."

Grey snorts, and Lena gives him a smack in the gut.

"Ouch!"

"That didn't hurt."

"Aunt Callie, do you see how she abuses me?"

“You are such a whiner, Grey,” Lena complains.

“Okay, okay, you two. Are you ready to head out?”

“Not me. I have my _own_ ride,” Grey says proudly.

“Aw, they finally let you out of car jail, amor?” Callie teases her godson.

“Yes! License reinstated. Car keys returned. I am a free man.”

“Go forth and _be safe_ , m’ijo,” Callie says, shooing him away.

Grey says his goodbyes and jogs off, and Callie loops an arm over Lena’s shoulders, wrinkling her nose slightly at the smell but kissing her forehead anyway.

“What should I make for dinner?”

“You’re cooking?” Lena asks excitedly as she picks up her pace a little on their quest to the car.

 

***

 

The acceptances are many, of course; she’s Carlos Torres’s granddaughter, after all. As they’re flooding her inbox, everyone has their fingers crossed for their first choices.

Grey roots for Columbia or Harvard, because he thinks New York or Boston could be cities he’d like.

Mia... doesn’t voice a preference, because choosing a favorite would mean a conversation about what, exactly, they are going to do after this summer.

Caroline and Teo vote UCLA, because they want to have an excuse to visit Los Angeles.

Mami votes Miami, of course, and Momma votes Hopkins. (These are the votes they voice: secretly both are rooting for something west coast, Berkeley maybe.)

Lena, however, keeps it all close to the chest. She’s wait-listed at Harvard and Columbia, but NYU is a go, so that’s Grey’s new choice. Miami was a given, and American, Hopkins, Yale, UCLA, and Duke are all “yes” too. She is excited but not ecstatic about any of them. Arizona took her on the big east coast college tour a few weeks earlier, Callie did the grand Miami Hurricanes pitch at Christmas, and all three of them took a west coast tour in February. At no time, however, has she given any hint of a favorite.

 

***

 

"She made a decision."

"Good morning, Dr. Robbins," an amused Malcom Rushdie greets his boss's wife as she barges into their OR, tying a mask around her face.

"Morning, Rush, nice work with that saw."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"What do you mean she made a decision? What did she pick?" Callie demands.

"She left a message on her way to school. Said she and Caroline were making dinner, they expected us home by seven, and she would tell us what school she will be attending in September."

"No way!"

"Yes, way."

"What a drama queen," Callie complains affectionately.

"No idea where she gets that from," Arizona teases, and Rush snorts.

"Nuh huh, Rushdie. Not allowed. Do not laugh at my wife's jokes at my expense."

"Yes, ma'am," Rush smirks and returns his attention to the hip replacement on the table.

“Hey, babe, do you want me or Rush on your bone cancer kid this afternoon?”

Arizona quirks a brow above her mask.

“Is that a trick question?”

Callie smiles at her, even though Arizona can only see it in her eyes.

“No, I just thought I’d give it to Rush. He assisted on my last two, and he’s been practicing all week. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh! Then I’ll take Rushdie. OR 4 at 13:00. Meet me in the patient’s room thirty minutes before? Don’t be late. And you,” Arizona returns her attention to Callie, coming close enough to steal a goodbye peck through their masks. “You don’t be late either. We’ve gotta be home by seven.”

“Got it. So bossy.”

“You’re one to talk. Bye.”

“ _Goodbye_ , Dr. Robbins,” Callie sing-songs after her, and the nurses join Rush in his chuckling. She glares a little, mostly playful. “Knock it off.”

“No, it’s cute. I always wanted two moms,” Rushdie jokes.

“Shut up and hand me the bone saw.”

“What? No! I’ll be good.”

“Hey, tonight I find out how far away my little girl is going to live from me for the next four years. Hand me, the bone saw.”

Rush dutifully offers the tool at that logic.

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

***

 

"Mark has $20 on UCLA because Mia is going there,” Callie announces on the drive home. “I'm laying my money on Berkeley. You?"

"I'm not betting on our child's future, Calliope. And she's not going to LA."

"So? Double down with me on Berkeley?"

"Fine, $20 on Hopkins. I _did_ give her an awesome tour."

“Oh yes, the many places her ancient mother seduced unsuspecting co-eds really sealed the deal on that one.”

“Ancient?! Now you’re just being rude,” Arizona objects, slightly stung, sending a small pout towards her wife at the wheel.

“Sorry,” Callie acquiesces, reaching a hand over to squeeze Arizona’s. “Just kinda seeming a little bit more real. The whole her moving away thing, I mean. The house is going to just keep getting quieter, isn’t it?”

Arizona nods, bringing Callie’s hand up to kiss the back before releasing it.

“Caroline’s only a freshman. We’ve got her for a while yet.”

“I know, I know. I’m just... my chickies are flying the coop.”

“You said chickies,” Arizona gasps, delightedly.

“I did not! I said chickens, like a self-respecting adult.”

“Chickies,” Arizona counters, with something far too close to a _giggle_ for their age, but Callie refuses to admit her slip.

“I said chickens.”

 

***

 

“Oh my gosh, Leni, just spit it out!”

It’s Arizona who finally breaks the excited tension. The girls prepared a wonderful dinner, and it is a rare treat to share a meal just the five of them, but the moms can really not even begin to enjoy it until they find out the big news.

She’s been flitting about playing hostess and server, showing off that beautifully rehabbed knee of hers and her slowly returning, bubbly personality, but the moms just _want to know_.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Lena acquiesces, dimples and all. “Now, I don’t want anyone’s feelings hurt, but I didn’t pick Johns Hopkins or Miami, okay?”

“Of course, baby girl, whatever you pick,” Arizona assures her.

"There's always grad school," Callie dutifully pouts.

“Well...” Lena draws out again.

“Lena, look at them,” Caroline speaks up. “I think Mami may stab you with her steak knife.”

Teo laughs. “Don’t do it, Leni. Make ‘em wait.”

“Hey, shut it,” Arizona objects, poking Teo’s ribs. The so-very-close to twelve-year-old grins and shifts away from the assault.

“Well, as soon as we send in my deposit, I will be a member of the Yale Class of 2038.”

"Wow," Arizona is the first to speak.

She applied Ivy, was accepted Ivy, but they never really expected her to _go_ Ivy. And New Haven is so far away. And kind of a crappy town. But it _is_ Yale.

"Mi nena is going to Yale?" Callie manages.

"Mhmm! I'm gonna be an Eli. I really, really liked the feel while I was there, with the college system and everything. And it’s close to New York with being _in_ New York, which seems like a hassle. It’s new and…”

“Haven?” Caroline pipes up.

“Terrible pun, Cari,” Lena complains to her sister at her right. Caroline shrugs and spoons more garlic mashed potatoes onto Teo's plate.

"Gracias, Care Bear."

"It felt like a good fit," Lena finishes.

"It's far away," Arizona speaks up, pushing her green beans around her plate.

"Not that much farther than Annapolis. I'm just really feeling like I wanna live on the east coast for awhile. Anyway, I'm really excited."

"Then so are we," Arizona smiles genuinely, standing up and coming around the table to hug Lena warmly.

"Sí, amor, of course we're happy," Callie joins them. "You'll just have to call home every day."

"Mami..." Lena objects.

"Every other day," Callie allows.

"We'll negotiate it later," Arizona chuckles, patting her wife's shoulder as Callie embraces Lena extremely tightly. "And let her breathe, babe."

"Okay, okay. Now I slaved over this meal all day. Go eat," Lena shrugs them off, unable to hide her smile.

With another kiss each, her moms return to their seats, gushing about how proud they are of her. Lena meets her brother's and sister's eyes and gives them an eye roll and a shake of the head, and Caroline and Teo smirk.

"You'll have to call Asa after dinner," Arizona says as she digs into her steak.

"I already did! I called him after school," Lena grins. "He's excited to have me on the same coast."

"Wait, you told him before your own mothers?" Callie exclaims.

"Yep, I told these nerds too," Lena says, gesturing to her siblings.

"Rude," Caroline complains.

"Rude!" Teo echoes.

 

***

 

“Yale’s got a decent team, you know,” Callie starts gently, eyes locked on the little blonde tucked into the couch beside her. “Just something to keep in mind.”

“You think I’ll play again," Lena states neutrally.

Callie shakes her head and kisses her daughter’s temple.

“I think it’s your decision, whatever you choose, and that’s what’s important. Tu momma y yo nos prometimos que we’d nunca force you to play. So, cualquier cosa quieres be great at, we’re in.” [Your momma and I promised ourselves that... never .... Whatever you want to...]

“Gracias, Mami,” Lena sighs, leaning against her mami’s shoulder as Caroline, Teo, and Arizona fight and bicker over channel choice.

“De nada, mi amor.”

 

***

 

el fin


End file.
